William the Ripper
by Asterie-Smiles
Summary: Total AU: Buffy is a police reporter, sent out on assignment, and as for Spike... COMPLETE
1. Prologue The Ripper Strikes Again

bTitle: William the Ripper Author: S_Star Set: Nowhere, timeline-wise, but in location terms.it's set in London, England despite the fact that, even though I was born there, I don't know London. I actually know NYC better than I know London, which is scary! But yeah, Buffy's still American, Spike's still British. Summary: AU fic - Buffy is a police reporter, sent out on an assignment, which she becomes a little too involved with. As for Spike.well, wait and see! Rating: R at worst. We'll see Disclaimer: SPIKE IS MINE! MINE I TELL YOU! Mine in the sense that I don't on a hair on his gorgeous blond head. Joss Whedon has this thing that owning a vampire makes it like his property! NO FAIR! Feedback: Praise to s_star@slayme.com, insults to your Recycle Bin. Kidding, but no hate mail or death threats, 'kay? Dedication: To Jack the Ripper - everything I know, I learnt from you! Mwa ha ha! Just kidding, really, but still, my knowledge of his crimes gave me the inspiration for this in the first place. Thanks to: Everyone who's ever sent me feedback! You're all angels! You can join the Angelic Tribe in Angelsville with everyone else whom I have called an Angel! But the poofter himself isn't there, of course. If I call you an Angel and send you there, I like you, and I don't want to condemn you to that hell/b  
  
It was almost midnight as the girl walked along the road. She shivered in the cold night air, wrapping her arms around herself in order to keep warm. As she neared her home, she began to walk faster, nearly running.  
  
From the shadows of a nearby alleyway, he watched her every move, his eyes two ice-blue points, appearing to glow with anticipation as she drew closer.  
  
Finally, he struck, grabbing her arm before she could think and dragging her back into the darkness. A flurry of blond hair, silver blades, and deep red blood, and the only thing remaining was the girl's mutilated body, her vital organs strewn over the pavement around her.  
  
And he was nowhere to be seen.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********************************************  
  
'Have you seen this?' demanded James, throwing a dirty newspaper down on the desk.  
  
The petite bond in the chair behind it jumped, before eyeing the paper with distaste. 'Have you seen a trash can?' she replied dryly, her brow wrinkling.  
  
'Look, Summers, I haven't got time for your stupid remarks. Just read it.'  
  
She opened out the paper, and saw the headline glaring out at her: 'The Ripper Strikes Again,' she read. 'Fun for all the family.'  
  
'Well?'  
  
'Well.what?' she wasn't impressed by this at all: she was trying to access her e-mail, and, once again, the stupid system wouldn't recognise her password. Sighing exasperatedly, she threw down the mouse and turned to face him. 'Spill.'  
  
'Buffy, you're part of the police force, remember?'  
  
'Yeah, but not a very active part. All I've gotta do is take some photos and write some reports. And I really don't see what The Times scooping me has really gotta do with the crime-fighting forces.  
  
Shaking his head, James pointed down at the paper. 'You're going on assignment.'  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********************************************  
  
Buffy winced as she picked her way through the piles of littler that were strewn over the pavement in front of her. Dead bodies she didn't mind; she could photograph victims forever without flinching, but this was just.gross.  
  
She winced again as her brand new shoe hit something old and smelly, almost turning and storming away before remembering that she wanted to actually have a job in the morning.  
  
Glancing at what little of the sky she could see, she could tell that it was getting dark.  
  
'Way to go with the observiness,' she muttered to herself, taking another step. 'Ew!'  
  
Just then, as she was about to turn back, she saw.something behind her. He.she.whatever it was was coming towards her.  
  
Images of the Ripper's murders came to her unbidden as she steeled herself for what was to come.  
  
bWhich is soon to be discovered if you REVIEW!/b 


	2. 1: Who?

bWilliam the Ripper by S_Star/b  
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike belong only to each other. Feedback: Must.have.feedback.s_star@slayme.com  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********************************************  
  
buPart 1 - Who?/u/b  
  
Buffy spun around to see.a rat. She frowned. The shadow had been slightly larger than that of a rat, even if the movies did seem to try and drill it into you that any tiny creature can have a huge shadow.  
  
Maybe the Hollywood directors iare/i doing something right, she thought to herself, turning back to her pile of rubbish.  
  
And walking straight into someone. Stepping back to take a better look, she amended that. A very handsome someone.  
  
He had the most gorgeous eyes she'd ever seen, including those of her boyfriend.  
  
bAN - yep, you read that right! Wanna know who? May I direct your attention to the little button at the bottom that says 'Review William the Ripper'? OK, on with the story./b  
  
They were blue, but it was impossible to tell which shade: the colour seemed to flow like the sea, ever-changing. It was almost hypnotic.  
  
After what seemed like an age, she tore her gaze away from those deep blue depths and took in the rest of him. His hair has bleached, slicked back almost harshly, and his outfit was a not unattractive leather ensemble, cigarette in hand. It wasn't hard to picture him with a motorbike and tattoos, riding round the city wrecking stuff.  
  
She looked back at his face, and saw he was watching her with an amused expression. Looking back down at the ground, she realised she'd better say something.  
  
'Um.hi. I'm Buffy.' She winced. Okay, that was definitely inot/i the most intelligent thing she could've said.  
  
Those beautiful eyes flashed turquoise in amusement before taking in the figure in front of them.  
  
She was cute, he deduced from his primary inspection. Not too tall.okay, not tall at all, blond, nice figure. okay, so she looked like one of those California beach babes, the ones without much between their ears but the hottest bodies to be had. And with a name like Buffy.  
  
She glared at him. 'So?'  
  
'So.what?'  
  
Oh God, that accent! It seemed she'd found her absolutely ideal guy. Okay, so he was a bad-ass biker whom she'd bumped into in a dark alleyway at night, but still.wow.  
  
'So.say something already,' she said, mimicking his intonation.  
  
'Like what?' he asked, casually lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the wall.  
  
'Like your name, what exactly you do.' your telephone number and home address, she added silently.  
  
'And why should I tell you that?' he smirked, looking over her again through puffs of smoke. Okay, so maybe she was quite as ditzy as some, but still.  
  
'Because if I'm gonna stand here and talk to you, I'm gonna want to know who you are.'  
  
'Fine,' he sighed, moving off the wall and over to stand in front of her. 'Name's Spike.'  
  
'Spike? Why doesn't that surprise me?'  
  
'What's that meant to mean?'  
  
'Just.the whole leather biker guy thing. And the name Spike.'  
  
'And what of it?'  
  
'What are you, living in the eighties?' She frowned.  
  
This is weird, he thought, cocking his head to one side as he surveyed her once more. They were actually having a civilised.okay, maybe not icivilised/ exactly.conversation.okay, maybe more of an argument, but still. It was comfortable to talk to her. Which was actually scary, even to him.  
  
'Hello?' she asked. 'Earth to.' She paused. 'Spike!'  
  
'Look, love, how 'bout you just toddle off home rather than insulting my fashion sense.'  
  
Okay, now ithat/i was disappointing. She thought maybe they'd got in some kind of swing with each other, between almost friendly insults. Obviously not.  
  
Upset (but damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of showing it), she turned to leave.  
  
'And, uh, gimme a call sometime,' he added, passing her a piece of paper with a number scrawled on it.  
  
Shooting him a smile, she almost skipped out of the alley. She'd felt some kind of connection with that man, and she'd only just met him, and he had to have felt it too. Maybe she'd actually found iThe One/i!  
  
With what could only be described as an evil smile on his face, Spike watched as she left. Oh, she was a feisty one, but he knew he could catch her.  
  
And maybe have some fun with her first.  
  
Fingering the blade in his pocket with morbid elation, he melted back into the shadows.  
  
TBC.  
  
bOK, so Spike-rat, not quite the same thing. But I did bring him in, and now you know the obvious.  
  
And iyou/i hold the key to the rest of the story. REVIEW AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!/b 


	3. 2: Dumb Blonde

bWilliam the Ripper by S_Star/b  
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike belong only to each other Feedback: Gimme, gimme gimme feedback before midnight, won't somebody help me fill my inbox today? OK, so my lyrics suck, but read the fic before you judge! s_star@slayme.com  
  
buPart 2 - Dumb Blonde/u/b  
  
The next morning, Buffy woke up to darkness. Glancing at the clock by her bed, she discovered that it was one am.  
  
She hadn't slept well that night, if at all. Her mind was plagued with images of the mysterious 'Spike' she'd met those few hours ago.  
  
She fingered the cad with his number on it gingerly, though why she was being so tentative, she didn't know. She'd either been holding the card, looking at it and memorising every character or making weird origami out of it that looked more like screwed up bus ticket than anything else.  
  
Lying back down, she traced over the numbers on the card for the thousandth time. She could feel the consistency of the paper and the subtle changes between where the ink had hit it and where it was plain.  
  
Buffy sighed in exasperation. She was going absolutely nowhere with anything right now. On the one hand there was Spike, and his mysterious image, the way his coat flowed around him as he moved with a grace that seemed almost predatorial, the way his eyes seemed to shine as he smirked at her, his body.okay, so where was she? Oh, yeah. And on the other hand there was her boyfriend.nope, on the other hand there was Spike. Again. The way his eyes, though amazingly beautiful, seemed to have some kind of insanity deep inside them. The way his slim fingers had produced the card almost from nowhere.  
  
Okay, so neither one was really ithat/i unattractive in her eyes.  
  
So she was back to square one, if she'd actually ever left.  
  
She shook her head in frustration before getting up and walking over to the wardrobe in determination. She knew the phone number: it was that of a hotel near Whitechapel, not a shabby one at that.  
  
She would go and see if she could see him, maybe get asked in.or not.  
  
With a new-found confidence, she threw on a jacket and headed for the door.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********************************************  
  
When she rounded the corner to the hotel, Buffy knew that something was wrong. Maybe it was her amazing psychic abilities.or maybe it was the scores of police cars gathered in the road outside.  
  
Rushing over, she walked up to Joe, one of the officers. 'Excuse me?' He didn't reply. 'Joe!'  
  
'Oh, Bunny, great. We've been trying to get hold of you for hours.'  
  
'You have? What's going on?'  
  
'The Ripper,' he said simply, gesturing towards an alley beside the building. Lying there, almost obscured from from view by the TV and press reporters crowding round, was a body.or what was left of it. From what she could see, the victim was female, quite young, just as all the victims had been. What lay there was almost the shell of the girl.literally. It was as if she'd crawled out of her body: just her skin was in view.  
  
Buffy slipped through the crowd to get a closer look and hopefully a picture when she saw Spike. He was standing on the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall as seemed to be his habit, casually smoking a cigarette as he watched the proceedings with what Buffy would've almost called mild amusement.  
  
To the side, huddled together, were the people who she assumed to be the other guests of the hotel, all huddled under blankets looking petrified.  
  
Suddenly, Buffy was completely unsure about.everything. Standing here, now, she couldn't picture herself going up to Spike, talking to him.it just seemed completely surreal. So did everything else here. Something was.off somehow.  
  
But still, she felt herself drawn to him for some reason, and the feeling was weirder than this whole night put together.  
  
'Um, hi,' she said again, still finding it impossible to say anything remotely intelligent around him.  
  
'Oh, Buffy,' he replied, shocked. What was she doing here? 'What are you doing here?'  
  
'I'm with the police,' she said quickly, showing him her pad. 'I do reporting.'  
  
'You're a police reporter?' he asked, peeling himself off the wall somewhat reluctantly.  
  
'Yeah. So do you have any idea what happened here?'  
  
'Dunno, love. Came outside for a smoke and found her lyin' here, body spread round everywhere.'  
  
'Oh my God.you found her?'  
  
'No big deal. I've seen worse.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'I don't really wanna go into it,' he muttered, trying to get off the subject.  
  
'Oh,' she said softly, looking down to the ground and over to the houses opposite, everywhere but at his face.  
  
Sensing her discomfort, Spike looked down at her, his features softening slightly. 'Do you wanna get out of here?'  
  
'Huh?'  
  
'You don't look too good,' he said, some kind of weird concern washing over him. But then again.no, there was no 'then again'. He wasn't meant to be feeling actual, well, feelings for her. Although.he could work this to his benefit. The more real his emotion, the more effective it would be in the end. 'So I thought maybe you'd want to get away,' he continued when she looked up at him expectantly.  
  
'Yeah, it's all kinda... scary. It's just hard to believe.'  
  
Taking her hand lightly in his own, Spike began to lead her away from the crime scene.  
  
'I mean, there's someone ihere/i at this very moment, going round killing people. I actually knew one of them.' She shuddered, almost crying at the memory of Jemima's death those short days ago. Spike put an arm round her, and she felt instantly comforted by his presence.  
  
'Love, sometimes the best way to get over grief is to talk about it.'  
  
Sobbing slightly, she pressed herself closer to him. 'I.I can't believe anyone would do something like that. Who could be sick enough to find pleasure in pain like that?'  
  
Tightening his grip on her, Spike stared fixedly at the road ahead. If only she knew.  
  
TBC  
  
bI know this chapter's not great, but after 4 attempts at getting it and still faling, I figured this was the best I'd do.  
  
But don't worry: there's loads better to come (I hope!).  
  
Still, I wanna know what you think; good, bad, ugly and everything in between.  
  
So follow these simple commands:  
  
ONE: Scroll down the screen until the buttons saying 'Back to Main Story Page' and 'Review William the Ripper' are on the screen TWO: Click the latter (Review) THREE:Type your name, e-mail address so I can contact you, and your opinion FOUR: Click 'Submit Review' FIVE: Wait for the acknowledgement to come up SIX: Celebrate the successful exercise in computer skills!  
  
OK, I'm done. Thanx for reading, or not as the case may be./b 


	4. 3: Fluffy Feelings

bWilliam the Ripper  
  
by S_Star/b  
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike belong only to each other Feedback: Don't care how, I want it buNOW/u/b Dedication: If you nice people out there in fictionland don't mind, I want this chapter to myself. You'll know why. **************************************************************************** ******************************  
  
uPart 3 - Fluffy Feelings/u  
  
'So I just decided to come to England,' she continued.  
  
Spike watched as Buffy talked about her life so far. Normally he would have found it deadly boring, but now.okay, it was still deadly boring, but he didn't mind watching her lips move, or the way she ran her hands through her hair. Nope, not at all.  
  
He had to admit that something about this girl drew him to her, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just that amazing body. No, he was beginning to like her. iReally/i like her. Maybe it was the innocence, or maybe it was just.her. But that didn't seem right. Liking a girl for being iher/i, especially after such a short time. No, there had to be something. Her accent, her hair.anything to rationalize away these feelings. This was bad. This was very, very bad.  
  
'Spike?'  
  
'Oh, uh, yeah. What was it you were saying?'  
  
'I was asking if you were okay,' she replied, looking at him strangely.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
'What's what?' she asked, cocking her head to one side and looking at him inquisitively.  
  
'Do I have ketchup on my nose or something?'  
  
She laughed. 'No, it just looks like you zoned out for a bit there.'  
  
'Nah, not really love.'  
  
This was nice, Buffy concluded. They were having a normal conversation, nice dinner at the only joint that was open at three in the morning.  
  
And despite the fact that it was one of those seedy all-night diner thingies that only served cold coffee and day-old muffins, it wasn't half bad.  
  
Spike winced as he took another sip of the aforementioned coffee. 'Look, I don't think I'll be able to stand another drop of this stuff. What say we go for a little walk?' Well, the first part was true. He really icouldn't/i stand any more of that crappy excuse for espresso. But he had other plans besides a walk for her.any longer and he wouldn't be able to go through with it.  
  
'So, Spike, how did you get that nickname anyway?'  
  
' 'S a long story, pet.'  
  
'I've got all night.'  
  
'Okay, well.what was that?'  
  
'What was what?'  
  
'I thought I heard something. Look, wait here and I'll.'  
  
She caught his sleeve before he could walk away. 'Spike, what is it?'  
  
'Love, it's just.' he began, leading her back into the nearest alleyway, intent on his task. Before making the gravest mistake he'd ever made: looking at her. 'God, you're beautiful,' he said, his voice cracking slightly.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I mean it,' he continued, his voice husky. He ran one finger over her bottom lip, and she felt an involuntary shiver running through her body. 'I could just stand and look at you forever.'  
  
She could hear someone whimpering as his lips neared hers.her, perhaps? It was all happening in slow motion, he was whispering.something to her and then he kissed her.  
  
Okay, not so much slow motion anymore. More like.extra fast motion, the tiniest brush of lips before he pulled away.  
  
Well, so much for Plan A. As Spike pulled back, he realised that this wasn't working. Yeah, okay, so stab her in the heart while she's in mid- kiss wasn't his most brilliant plan, and he'd had high hopes for this girl, but still. He'd have to think of something else.  
  
But as she looked up at him, heart racing, fear and worry in her eyes, he caved. To hell with the plan, he wanted this girl so badly.Grabbing her arms roughly, he smashed his lips to hers, skipping the 'gentle' stage completely and heading straight for pure unadulterated lust.  
  
This was the most amazing, earth-shattering kiss.okay, so thoughts weren't exactly coming to her in their most intellectual form, but still.wow. Their tongues battled furiously as she pulled him closer, knowing nothing but the need for him.  
  
And then he made the gravest mistake of his life, eclipsing even the error he'd made those few minutes ago - had it only been two minutes? It felt like an eternity - he bit her lip.  
  
Okay, so he was somewhat a masochist: with a hobby like his, how could he not be? And the passion was too much, he had to do it.  
  
God, her blood was good; rich and sweet. He sounded like some kind of vampire-cult member, drinking her blood. But it was just a taste, and it was such a turn on.  
  
Buffy was loving every second. There was nothing but him and her, nothing but the pleasure, and it was just a kiss, for God's sake! Imagine what it would be like if they got any further.  
  
Then, through the pleasure barrier came a sharp, piercing pain. She cried out loud and pushed him away, moving her hand to her mouth. Her lip was bleeding, very badly in fact; her hand was already covered in blood, and she could feel it dripping down her chin and onto the top of the blouse she'd pulled on earlier.  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with unshed tears, slowly backing out of the alleyway, away from him.  
  
'Buffy!' he called after her, reaching out his hand in a gesture of apology and comfort, but she just turned and ran. 'Buffy,' he whispered again, turning and resting his head against the cold brick wall behind him. What the hell had he just done?  
  
TBC  
  
AN - yeah, yeah, I know what you're gonna say.  
  
Actually, hold on. For once, I don't. I don't really know what to think of this chapter, so any feedback that you'd like to offer would be willingly accepted. Either press 'Review' (see last Chapter for step-by- step guide of how to review it!) or mail fluff_buff@slayme.com 


	5. 4: Regrets

William the Ripper   
by S_Star   
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike belong only to each other, and song lyrics   
belong to the people who wrote them.   
Feedback: I can't think of any other li'l rhymes or lyrics, so just...feed   
me!   
Dedication: DKFairy. I'm so sorry, babe!   
  
Regrets (Last Chance)   
  
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**************************************   
'Last chance to be with you,   
Last chance to hold you tight,   
Because my foolish heart ran away with me,   
I lost my chance to be with you tonight.'   
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**************************************   
He was such a bloody idiot! Spike was pacing up and down the alleyway   
where he'd been standing those long minutes ago, cursing himself for his   
complete stupidity.   
  
How could he have done that to her? He'd just ruined his chances with   
the one person he'd ever cared about. And yes, he'd finally admitted to   
himself that he cared about her, even though he'd only met her, what,   
eight hours ago?   
  
Well, there were only two ways he could think of to make himself feel   
better, and since there were a very small number of hookers in the area,   
he decided to go to plan B, and the police force were faced with yet   
another body when they arrived fifteen minutes later.   
  
********************************************************************  
**************************************   
  
The phone rang, and a familiar voice was barking frantic messages into   
the answering machine, something about another murder or something   
equally unimportant.   
  
Buffy was curled up on her bed, not even holding a tub of ice-cream. No,   
this had shaken her beyond ice-cream, which was actually very scary   
when she considered how much she relied on its chocolaty goodness.   
  
Gradually drawing up strength, she reached for the cordless phone and   
dialed the familiar number of Willow, her best friend in California. She   
realised it was about ten hours behind there, which meant it was - she   
glanced at her watch - 6pm, which was good enough.   
  
A strange voice answered the phone and Buffy frowned. 'Um, is Willow   
there?'   
  
'Will!'   
  
A few seconds later, Willow picked it up. 'Hello?'   
  
'Hey Will.' Buffy felt better already. It was great to talk to Will, great to feel   
that she still existed now that she'd left LA. 'So, who's the secretary?'   
  
'What? Oh, that's Tara. She's kinda my girlfriend,' Willow replied   
tentatively.   
  
'Your girlfriend? What happened to Oz?'   
  
'I e-mailed you about two weeks ago and told you he left.'   
  
'My computer's bust. It won't recognise my password. I'm sorry, Will.'   
  
'No, I'm good. So what did you call about? You don't normally phone   
unless something really bad's happened, and since you don't get that   
many earthquakes in London...'   
  
'Hey! I can't just call to talk to my best friend for the sake of talking?'   
  
'Nope. It's in the rules. So spill.'   
  
'It's...it's...' Okay, now that it was the time to actually say it, Buffy had no   
idea how. Will was probably definitely still on speaking terms with her   
boyfriend, and that wouldn't do any good... 'Look, you've gotta swear not   
to tell anyone.'   
  
She explained the last eight hours from beginning to end, almost   
sobbing. It was weird, really.   
  
'Buffy, anyone could've bitten your lip by mistake,' suggested Willow.   
  
And that was the weird part. That could've easily been an accident, but   
she somehow knew it wasn't. That confused her: she'd somehow felt his   
intention, like she was connected with his thoughts on some base level.   
  
She explained all of this to her friend, and Willow was silent for a minute.   
'Buff...I know this isn't what you wanna hear, but the only thing you can   
really do is talk to him.'   
  
'Thanks, Will. Bye.'   
  
Putting the receiver back in its holder, Buffy sat back. She knew that was   
the only thing she could really do to get things straight, but still she was   
reluctant. She had absolutely no idea what he'd say to her, no idea how   
he'd justify his actions, if he was planning to. And she had no idea how   
he felt about her.   
  
She knew that she was drawn to him, for what reason she couldn't   
fathom. She knew that something that felt a lot like love was growing   
inside her, even after such a short time. And she knew that he was such a   
hottie that the chances of him feeling more than a slight interest in her   
were so low she couldn't think of a figure.   
  
But she had to know more. She had to try. So for the second time that   
night, she pulled on a coat and ran out to visit Spike.   
  
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Buffy was so intent on hunting him down and interrogating him until he   
caved that she almost didn't notice the crowd gathered a block from her   
apartment.   
  
'What is it?' she asked, feeling a sudden sense of deja vu, which turned   
to sickness as she saw and photographed the body. This was beginning   
to get annoying, she concluded, mentally going over the Ripper's death   
toll so far. And the numbers were increasing: two victims in the space of   
about one and a half hours was slight overkill, no pun intended.   
  
What this city needed was...well, she couldn't think of anything besides   
Superman right now, but that wasn't the point. She'd read and heard   
enough about Jack the Ripper, whose horrific murders were almost   
directly paralleled by this series of deaths, and she figured that London   
had one big crime problem.   
  
She found herself blaming the police force. She worked for them, but she   
didn't do any of the active duty stuff, and she'd been on patrol with them   
and seen what they called 'working'.   
  
Then, unconsciously walking away from the scene, Buffy bumped into   
someone. Looking up she realised who it was.   
  
'Spike...um, I wanted to...'   
  
He cut her off with a kiss, gentle, more...sincere than the last ones.   
Sincere? Where the hell did she come up with that? A sincere kiss...hello,   
not exactly making much sense here. But then again, how could she be   
expected to in a position like this?   
  
When he pulled away, she didn't move, just watched as he took a step   
back and slowly brought his hand to her cheek.   
  
'Love, I'm sorry,' he said, almost crying. It was strange, that. This was   
something he couldn't have imagined himself saying or doing in a million   
years; it was so slushy, not like him at all, and yet it kept coming. 'I didn't   
mean to hurt you, I didn't want to scare you off or anything. I don't know   
why I did it...'   
  
Buffy took his hand in hers softly and began to lead him to her block. 'I   
think we should go inside and talk about this,' she said, and they walked   
together, one or the other whispering irrelevant nothings as they headed   
up the road.   
  
********************************************************************  
**************************************   
  
There were no more words spoken as they entered her apartment, and he   
stood there in silence as she draped her coat over the stair rail and   
walked into the living room. As she turned back to face him, an   
unconscious signal was exchanged between the two, and without any   
warning, Spike picked her up and began to carry her to her room.   
  
Buffy buried her face in his chest as he carried her effortlessly through   
into the bedroom, savouring his scent and the way the moment felt. She   
knew that as soon as he set her down, that would be it. There would be   
no turning back. And why would she want to?   
  
Carefully laying her down on the bed, Spike began to slowly undress her,   
licking at the skin as it was exposed, his ministrations earning moans of   
approval from the goddess spread before him.   
  
As his lips moved lower, her cries became louder and she almost begged   
for release as he teased her mercilessly.   
  
When they both knew she couldn't take any more, Spike somehow   
managed to divest himself of clothing in what seemed like one swift   
move, and in an instant her was above her, poised at her entrance. With   
a soft kiss, he entered her, and she cried out so loudly she was certain   
the other residents of the apartment block would be having words with   
her in the morning.   
  
As he began to thrust into her at a greater speed, their kisses grew more   
urgent, more demanding, almost reopening the tender split in her lip in   
their intensity.   
  
When he felt his orgasm building, Spike buried his face in Buffy's   
shoulder, and she knew that the way he was biting down on her neck and   
the way his nails were digging into her back would leave bruises for days,   
but as she came with a hoarse cry of his name, she knew that it didn't   
matter one bit.   
  
  
AN - Yeah, I know this was mean to be a lovely children's fairy story about   
a nice Slayer and a big bad vampire who overcame their differences and   
found love, but still...an evil murderer, an American police reporter, lots   
of death and almost but nowhere near NC-17 rated sex...that's the way to   
go.   
  
This is my first remotely NC-17-y bit: I tend to prefer light implications,   
but I felt this fit with the nature of the fic. And it's not as bad as most,   
obviously, so.   
  
Whaddya think? 


	6. 5: Kaleidoscope Interlude

William the Ripper   
by S_Star   
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike belong to me in the sense that me stands for   
Mutant Enemy and I had the caps lock key on when I was typing it. My   
bad.   
Feedback: I wanna know…   
Dedication: Silver - I don't believe you liked my fic!   
Kantayra - I've just been reading Superstar Revamped (Why did it have to   
end?!) and I seem to have inherited your use of the nickname 'kitten'.   
Hope you don't mind.   
Rozi - thanx for being there, hun!   
  
Part 5 - Kaleidoscope   
  
Waking up that morning was a surreal experience for Buffy.   
  
It was as if, when she'd been sleeping, some of her senses had floated   
away from her body and when she first managed to open her eyes, they   
diffused back one by one.   
  
First, her sense of hearing. The room was silent save two strong   
heartbeats, seemingly in perfect time with one another. Outside she   
could hear the distant sounds of the city as it awoke, but it seemed so far   
away, like it was another world from the room in which she was lying.   
  
Secondly, her sense of touch. Her aching limbs weren't the issue right   
now: it was kinda hard to think of anything but the lean chest pressed   
against her back, the calm, regular breaths she could feel across her   
neck.   
  
She relaxed even more and snuggled slightly closer, enjoying the shared   
warmth.   
  
Then her sight returned, but she kept her eyes closed, relishing in the   
new sensations.   
  
Finally, her actual sense sense returned, and she found herself   
remembering all the events of the previous night.   
  
6pm she'd been working and she'd met Spike.   
  
1am she'd been out for coffee with him.   
  
Half past 1 they'd kissed.   
  
4am she'd gone out to find him.   
  
4:30 they'd come back here, and, well…she blushed at the memory,   
remembering everything he could do to her with just one touch or one   
smouldering glance.   
  
This brought a new definition to the expression 'moving too fast', but   
somehow it felt unquestionably right.   
  
At this point, the person beside her stirred, tightening his grip around her   
waist and nuzzling her neck.   
  
'Mornin', luv,' he murmured.   
  
'Morning,' she replied, turning over to kiss him lightly.   
  
Through the fuzzy morning-after-the-best-sex-I've-ever-had daze, Spike   
was vaguely aware that there was something important he should have   
remembered.   
  
Something big he'd said or done…well, he remembered what they'd   
done, he wasn't quite that out of it, but there was SOMETHING…   
  
'What's wrong?' asked Buffy, noticing the new tenseness in his body.   
  
'Just recoverin' from last night's…activities, pet.' He gave her a smirk,   
lying back with his hands behind his head as she looked over his body   
appreciatively.   
  
'I love you,' she smiled, lying her head on his chest.   
  
That was it.   
  
That was what he'd said.   
  
He'd said that he loved her.   
  
And no matter how many times he could try and convince himself that it   
had just been a heat of the moment thing, he knew deep down it wasn't.   
  
It was true.   
  
And suddenly his whole world fell apart.   
  
********************************************************************  
**************************************   
  
'Spike?' asked Buffy again, concerned. 'Baby, what's wrong?'   
  
' 'S nothing,' he assured her. 'I love you too, kitten.'   
  
He brushed his lips against hers lightly before pulling her on top of him,   
trailing kisses down her tanned throat as her hands began to explore his   
chest as if trying to memorise every line.   
  
KNOCK KNOCK.   
  
Buffy sighed in defeat, rolling over and getting of the bed, pulling on   
some clothes. She gestured for Spike to do the same.   
  
'Who the hell would be knocking on my door at-' Buffy glanced at the   
clock. 'One in the afternoon?'   
  
'One in the bloody afternoon?!'   
  
'Okay, so maybe some desperate salesman or someone,' she continued,   
going over to the door as Spike began to explore the kitchen for coffee.   
  
Undoing the latch, she turned to face whoever'd dared interrupt and give   
them a piece of her mind…and stopped short when she saw the visitor's   
face.   
  
'What, no hug?' he asked with an oafish grin.   
  
All Buffy could do was stare, and he pulled her into a clumsy hug which   
she found severely lacking compared to Spike's embrace.   
  
When he eventually pulled back, allowing her to breathe, he looked down   
at her expectantly, still receiving no reaction.   
  
At the silence, Spike came back in from the kitchen, still shirtless, and   
wrapped his arms around Buffy's waist from behind, kissing her cheek   
before surveying their guest.   
  
'Buffy, love, who's this wanker?'   
  
Without breaking away, Buffy took a deep breath, looking away from   
those beautiful, now cerulean, eyes. 'Spike, this is Riley, my boyfriend.'   
  
  
AN: RILEY?! Ooh, this is gonna be sooo much fun!   
  
I run a hate Riley club (join today at ), so   
you can't expect any of the next part(s) to be anything but cool!   
  
But no, he won't die.   
  
Oh, speaking of dying, more about Spike's…ahem…hobby will be   
explained after I've dealt with 'this wanker', so review if you wanna know! 


	7. 6: Shattered

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be writing this. I'd be sitting in my cushy apartment going over the latest scripts for BtVS, content in the knowledge that Buffy and Spike will have nothing but good times, while drinking a Starbucks caramel frapaccino with extra cream and eating a Starbucks caramel pecan cheesecake.  
Mmm, I could really go for a cheesecake right now…  
Where was I? Oh, yeah. No apartment, no characters, no scripts, no frapaccino, and, alas, no cheesecake.  
Life is cruel.  
Oh, but I am affiliated with Starbucks! Could you tell?  
Feedback: The one thing I like more than cheesecake!  
Dedication: Everyone who's sent me such great feedback so far... It's people like you who remind me why I write this stuff!  
  
  
Look, I wrote some more, see?   
  
I actually skipped my favourite ever episode of X-Men to write this for you! ^_~   
  
Incidentally, it's the last of the Rogue/Gambit extreme UST ones, where she finally kisses him and drains his power…sigh…   
  
So I figured, if I was gonna miss it, this part was gonna answer some key questions…   
  
Part 6 - Shattered  
  
Boyfriend? Okay, when Spike had thought that it couldn't get any worse, he'd obviously jinxed _everything_.   
  
He'd been _happy_ before. He didn't feel any guilt for his actions, until nineteen hours ago…   
  
He was a…God, it pained him even to think it…murderer, his mind finally choked out. And that had been okay with him.   
  
He…he couldn't justify his actions. It was weird how it felt to kill…there was that feeling that you could control other people's lives, sick and twisted though it may be. It was a power kick, and the exhilaration of it was so powerful…   
  
It had started years ago, when he'd seen a film about Jack the Ripper. He was young and impressionable, and he went out and proudly claimed his first victim. But, more importantly, he didn't get caught.   
  
So it had grown with him, a force driving him, controlling him. Killing wasn't a sport to him, it was an art.   
  
And, because of all that, he hadn't felt guilt, ever. It was a foreign feeling, a parasite wriggling inside him, tearing him up…and to alleviate it, he'd done the one thing he always did. But for the first time, he'd realised. When he'd twisted the knife, he could feel the pain multiplied hundredfold in his own body. When the blood had flowed so readily from the gaping wounds, he wanted to run and cower in the shadows until he was sure he would never see such an image again. And suddenly, killing wasn't an art. Killing wasn't a glamorous thing they did in the movies. It was taking innocent people and taking away every chance they would ever have, ripping their dreams at the seams and taking pleasure in the way they fell apart.   
  
But he'd managed to push all of that down until that morning…afternoon…when he remembered what he'd told her. He saw, so clearly, how much he loved her, and that was it. Nothing, _nothing_ on this Earth could ever bring him to kill again.   
  
Disgust had filled him to such an extent that he was certain he would throw up, and the pain was too much. And, as his angel lay beside him, loving him as she did, not knowing who he was, not knowing the hideous deeds he'd done…he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve _her_. But he was selfish. He loved her, and he wasn't going to leave, not going to live without her beauty, beauty such as someone of his character should not be allowed to gaze upon…not after he'd seen the look in her eyes right after he'd professed his love for her.   
  
And now…just another lovely twist for the already mixed-up cocktail that was life. Not a very pleasant one at that.   
  
He finally lifted his gaze from the pattern on the carpet that had seemed so fascinating to him and looked 'Riley' down.   
  
'Stupid git' was the conclusion he drew.   
  
He had that 'nice-guy' look about him, the image that he was some sweet, cornfed _nancyboy_ who would walk into a bar and not get a second (or first, in many cases) glance from, well, anyone.   
  
But if Buffy…   
  
He couldn't see her face to judge her emotions from his position behind her, and he didn't know…   
  
What if Buffy loved him? What if Buffy didn't love him? What the hell have those bastards in the sky got lined up for me next?   
  
As if to answer his question, the phone rang.   
  
The three of them remained stock still, all still recovering from the latest revelation, as the final rings sounded and the message began to play across.   
  
'Buffy? Buffy, this is Joe. We've got a lead for the Ripper case, a new prime suspect's been named. He's been described as blond; about 5'8''…are you getting this? Stays in that hotel down in Whitechapel, where the murders have taken place. He goes by the name of William. William Taylor…'   
  
If it was possible, Buffy froze even more into position, dreading the next words.   
  
'...Also known as Spike…'   
  
Buffy ripped away from him as if burned and Spike could feel a tear threatening to fall.   
  
Well, it wasn't too late to kill them both and run away unscathed…no, how could he even _think_ that?   
  
He finally risked a glance into Buffy's eyes, which were blazing bright green with rage and pain.   
  
His own eyes pleading with her for a chance, Spike opened his mouth to explain…   
  
**OK, so, next chapter, next chapter, let me see…we'll get yelling, more yelling, maybe a high speed car chase, a plot to corner the uranium market, and a coupla flying pigs to top it off.   
  
You wanna know what happens, I wanna know what you think. So you review and I get my feedback, and I write more and you get your story. Sounds fair to me!**


	8. 7: Nothing From Something

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: Not mi-   
Actually, there's this really cool story where I very nearly owned Spike, and I swear by this fic that it's true.  
_When I first laid eyes on him, I fell in love with him. He had that adorable blonde hair and those gorgeous blue eyes, and he was the loveliest thing I'd ever seen.  
So I asked my mum, and she said I could have him, but my dad said no, it's too much upkeep and we've already got four others, so I went away barehanded and heartbroken._  
Of course, Spike was a rex kitten I saw at the Cat's Protection League.  
You didn't honestly think I came that close to owning James Marsters and lived to tell the tale?  
Feedback: Chicken soup for the ego, baby! **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: Michelle, who's sent me so much great feedback!  
  
**Part 7 - Nothing From Something  
  
'Buffy, I-'   
  
'Oh my God…' Buffy was staring at him in disgust, and Spike swore that he could actually feel his heart tearing in two.   
  
It was just…that look in her eyes, that unbridled hatred.   
  
No, it wasn't hatred. Hatred he could deal with. It was pure loathing, horror, and, again, disgust. Disgust that she'd slept with this sick, twisted maniac. Disgust that she loved him. How could she love him, when he was…what he was? How could she love someone so low, someone so far beneath her in every sense?   
  
All that in one look…Spike glanced away quickly before looking back up at her, his blue eyes that Buffy had once said to be a window to his soul pleading with her, trying to express how he felt without words.   
  
Words could never convey the emotions tearing at his heart at that moment. Rage, sadness, a pain so acute that he very nearly cried out. And love. Beneath it all, fighting for control and losing desperately, was everything he felt for the woman standing before him.   
  
For a moment Buffy faltered, seeing all he wanted her to, but then she allowed her mask to fall back into place.   
  
'Get out.'   
  
'Buffy, I-'   
  
'I said get out.'   
  
'Why?' He allowed his eyes to meet hers for one final time as he tried to understand why she wasn't turning him in right now.   
  
'Just go!' she snapped, her emotions finally gaining control. 'Get out of this block, get out of this city…hell, leave the country for all I care! Just. Get. Out!'   
  
Bowing his head in defeat, Spike headed for the door, but then stopped, holding back his tears as he managed to choke out a few words. 'If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now and you know it.' Steeled himself for what he had to say next. 'But, don't you worry, pet, you are good for something. I mean, you were certainly _on top of_ some of my _other_ needs.' He raised an eyebrow and looked down her body appreciatively, with that look that made her feel like he was just standing there undressing her with his eyes. She unconsciously tried to cover herself up, trying not to just dissolve into tears then and there.   
  
As Spike turned to walk out the door, he put a hand on Riley's shoulder. 'You're a lucky bloke. It's not everyday a guy finds a girl as…' He searched for a word. '_willing_ as that.'   
  
He gave them both a quick smirk before grabbing his coat and walking out into the corridor.   
  
As soon as the door shut behind him, Spike collapsed in tears.   
  
He…the Ripper, in tears over some girl he'd only just met. It was pathetic, that's what it was. But he couldn't help it. Everything had changed now, _everything_.   
  
And he couldn't believe he'd said those things to her! One look at her turned him into a little pile of mush and _he_ was calling _her_ willing.   
  
It was just…if he could just make her hate him, than maybe he could manage to somehow not love her. She was disgusted before, sickened, but she didn't hate him.   
  
Actually, that was _why_ she was disgusted.   
  
But he thought that if he played to her insecurities, than maybe she would hate him enough for him to hate her. And then it would all be fine. He could go someplace else, start somewhere new, without _her_ plaguing his every thought.   
  
And, although he knew it was only literally a minute ago when he'd left her apartment with those words, he could tell that he could never be able to stop loving her.   
  
At this thought, fresh tears began to stream down his face.   
  
'Buffy?' asked Riley. 'Buffy, are you okay?'   
  
_Duh_! she thought. Does it _look_ like I'm okay to you?   
  
Instead, she turned to him and forced an unconvincing smile. 'I'm fine. I just need to be alone right now. Come by later?' She forced another weak smile, and he grinned broadly in response.   
  
'Okay, I'll come round tonight, then,' he said in that permanent happy tone of his, walking out the door without noticing the black-clad figure huddled on the floor of the corridor.   
  
God, did that guy actually _know_ the meaning of a facial expression? A Ken doll had more variety than him!   
  
Buffy couldn't tell what exactly she'd seen in him, compared to…   
  
Spike. Spike was the Ripper. The one who'd been whispering the most glorious words to her those few hours ago. The one she loved.   
  
And he was…   
  
It was beyond comprehension.   
  
With a choked sob, Buffy fell to the ground, her back against the wall, knees brought up to her chest as she cried, not knowing that if the thin layer of plaster behind her was removed, she would find her actions being mirrored by the one she loved so fiercely.   
  
**That was gonna be longer, but, y'know, there's this pesky thing called sleep that I have to do, and I have Latin class first thing tomorrow, so goodnight and KEEP REVIEWING! It's only physics on Tuesday, so I'll get more out by then.   
  
But ONLY if you review. If you don't, then I might actually bother to do my English homework, so we'd both lose out here, people!**


	9. 8: Betrayals of the Heart

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: Hello? I'm writing B/S fanfiction here! Do you think Joss Whedon writes B/S fanfiction? No, he's too busy getting Buffy involved with wankers like Riley and making Spike insane to marvel at the beauty of the love which they so obviously share…  
OK, now that I've said all that, I think that you can safely deduce that  
a) I don't own BtVS  
and b) I'm insane.  
Feedback: If you read it even after that lapse of sanity… **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: Ya want it, it's yours! (Don't all shout at once).  
  
For those who doubt, I _am_ a B/S shipper! Geez! They've been through worse and still made it, people!  
Sorry, I meant, just hold on, they _will_ be together…  
  
…Eventually…**  
  
Part 8 - Betrayals of the Heart  
  
How could he have done that to her? How…how, after everything he'd said? Everything he'd _done_?   
  
It was one thing to sleep with her and then do whatever it was he was gonna do, but to say he loved her, to betray her heart like that?   
  
How could someone like that exist?   
  
And how could she love someone like that?   
  
No matter how hard she tried, she loved him. No matter how many times she tried to picture the bodies, she loved him. No matter how long she spent telling herself he was evil, she _still_ loved him.   
  
And he was evil. Evil wasn't the vampires you saw in movies or that guy who stole people's souls while they slept. Evil was someone who would willingly take other's lives, and relish in the fact. Evil was someone who had no qualms about doing absolutely _anything_ in order to take people's lives.   
  
Evil was someone like Sp--- like _him_. She couldn't think about him as Spike anymore. That wasn't who he was, despite the origin of the nickname.   
  
And she loved him.   
  
How could she?   
  
********************************************************************************************************************   
  
What the hell had he done?   
  
He had just ruined _everything_!   
  
Actually, no. Everything had been really screwed up for years now.   
  
It was just that it had finally hit home. Everything he'd done, how wrong he was.   
  
He'd heard that love changed a person, but he hadn't thought he'd ever have to worry about that.   
  
Just look at me now, he thought bitterly. Sittin' outside her flat crying like a bloody nancyboy! He was almost as bad as that farmboy she was dating.   
  
Which brought him to another situation, one which he'd thought was the end of the world at the time.   
  
_Spike, this is Riley. My boyfriend._   
  
So calm. Like she hadn't just broken his heart.   
  
How could she have just stood there and introduced her boyfriend to her…whatever he was…lover…without flinching.   
  
What the bloody hell had just happened?!   
  
Spike buried his head in his hands again, more confused than he'd thought humanly possible.   
  
Normally at this stage, he'd just go out and kill something, but that wasn't exactly an option anymore. If they found another death, he'd just prove to her that he was still a…a murderer. And he wasn't. He couldn't, not after everything. Not after _her_.   
  
God, he was thinking in circles!   
  
Every thought he had led back to her, which led back to…her. Everything he'd thought up till now involved her, guilt, her, and more guilt.   
  
Which left no room for the hard liquor he was craving just now.   
  
But getting himself drunk wasn't gonna help matters either.   
  
How 'bout just turning himself in? At least that would prove to Buffy that he felt truly sorry about…everything.   
  
But what chance would he have of ever being with her if he was in gaol?   
  
What chance do I have of being with her now? the other half of his brain countered.   
  
Before he could continue his argument with…himself, he heard the door to Buffy's apartment open, and watched through slitted eyes as her small figure stepped out. She looked down at him as if she'd known he was there all along before coming and sitting next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as if seeking comfort.   
  
'I'm sorry,' was all she whispered as she watched the stairway at the end of the corridor. As if they'd been given some kind of cue, a group of heavily armed police officers pushed through the door and walked towards him, as Buffy stepped away and watched from the entrance to her apartment as they cuffed him and took him away.   
  
To her surprise, Spike didn't put up any resistance, his last loving look to her explaining everything she needed to know.   
  
When the police team were safely out, Buffy closed her door, leaning her head back against it, her internal thought loop starting all over again as another tear rolled down her cheek.   
  
How could she?   
  
**Reviews? Please? The happy Spuffy ending will come much faster if I have the reviews that I can turn into a magickal story-producing potion!**


	10. 9: Toujours Rendant

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: Disclaimer? Qu'est-ce que c'est?  
C'est un démenti? Ah.  
Ils ne sont pas à moi, je suis un fanatique pauvre qui veut Buffy et Spike s'aimer, parce qu'ils sont faits l'un pour l'autre!  
  
(Et je voudrais écrire un chapitre de 'William the Ripper' comme ça, aussi, mais je ne parle pas assez de français.)   
Feedback: S'il vous plaît! **s_star@slayme.com****  
  
AN - Sorry for writing in French. Weird habit.   
  
IMPORTANT BACKSTORY:   
  
It's the day of the trial! (obviously we've skipped some time, here.)   
  
I figured I've done enough despair to make up for his (brief) stint in gaol. All you need to know is that he called Buffy with his one phone call, lost his nerve on the first ring and hung up. There was no point embellishing it with layers of adjectives, cuz that's what happened.   
  
OK, well, today I actually went up to the Crown Court in Maidstone and watched a case and studied how the court works, so I'm all ready! **  
  
Part 9 - Toujours Rendant (Forever Waiting)  
  
Buffy was nervous.   
  
No, not nervous. More like totally heart-stoppingly terrified.   
  
She was pacing outside the door to Court 6; up and down, up and down until she made even the people looking in through the large windows outside dizzy, and she felt like she was about to collapse.   
  
Actually, unconsciousness didn't seem such a bad option right now.   
  
Not compared to what she was about to face.   
  
It was the trial. His trial.   
  
The trial which he wouldn't be having if it wasn't for her.   
  
She had been the one who'd turned him in, she had been the one who'd pretty much handed him a life sentence on a silver platter.   
  
If she hadn't made that call, they would've had the chance to talk, sort everything out. Start over, become a proper loving couple.   
  
Or just sit on opposite sides of the wall and wallow in guilt until the landlady threw him out, but it would be better than this…   
  
Anything would be better than this.   
  
She'd refused to have anything to do with the case, having been offered the role of a witness for the prosecution, and politely turned it down, offering only a statement about three lines long, and didn't know what to expect. Usually, she'd know everything: how he'd plead, who the witnesses would be if he pleaded not guilty…It was her job…   
  
Okay, she should really go in now. She was standing directly outside the entrance, watching as the jury for the previous case gave their verdict and filed out before entering, sitting in one of the plush green seats for public viewers.   
  
On her right, set back on a raised platform, was the judge's seat, red, behind a table covered in various papers, microphones and televisions for linkups to certain witnesses who couldn't stand and give evidence in the courtroom, usually children.   
  
On the main floor level stood the court clerk's table, papers everywhere, the courtroom phone, books, folders, notes…Organised mess.   
  
Behind that, still facing the judge, was the usher's table, with the holy books of every conceivable religion laid out in neat piles for swearing in, and behind that was the table for the barristers, prosecution nearest her and defence on the other side, nearest the jury.   
  
All around her, the seats filled up with newspapers worldwide and other police officers to 'restrain the defendant if he got out of hand', as she'd been told the first time she entered a courtroom.   
  
There were no family or friends, besides Buffy herself, and she'd come as a police reporter, not as his…whatever she was.   
  
Then everyone gasped as he entered the dock, accompanied by the dock officer, and, as in all high-security cases, he was handcuffed. He refused to look up as he was led to his seat and sat quietly, contemplating…everything.   
  
Buffy rose for the judge and watched Spike confirm his identity before sitting back down. She frowned as the jury entered the court and sat on the benches beside their seats.   
  
Didn't they do the guilty/not guilty part before the jury got sworn in?   
  
She pondered this as they stepped one by one to their appropriate seats and were sworn in, and then the silence deepened, if that was possible, as 'the defendant' was asked to stand, before remembering that cases in the public eye were known to build up the suspense like that.   
  
Finally Spike looked up, catching and holding her gaze, his eyes that fiercely clear cobalt colour they had been in that instant she'd first seen him.   
  
She hardly heard as the charges were read and he was asked how he pleaded, she just heard his answer, in a voice that she could see was more confident than he was inside.   
  
He never looked away from her as he spoke, and his plea seemed to echo in her mind forever before she actually registered it.   
  
'Guilty.'   
  
**I know that not everyone could see that coming (one of my pseudo beta readers was so shocked that I got 3 e-mails along the lines of 'What the hell?!' before any real response), but hey, I didn't know that was gonna happen until I was writing it and suddenly Spike character 'decided' to plead guilty, and I can't deny my characters anything (unlike Joss Whedon who has denied Buffy and Spike the love they deserve for seven years now).   
  
So what do you think?   
  
REVIEWS, please, or the next chapter will ALL be in French, and we wouldn't want that, would we?   
  
WOULD WE??????**


	11. 10: Guilty

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: Hey! I'm treating them better than Joss ever has! (I know this fic is evil, but still, did you see As You Were, people?)  
Why should I be punished when all I'm doing is trying, in my twisted way, to give two wonderful characters the happy ending they deserve?  
WHY?!!  
Oh yeah, I can't afford to be sued. That would be it.  
So, erm, yeah, I love you, Joss!  
Think he bought that?   
Feedback: Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. FEED ME NOW! **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: Everyone who's reviewed this so far or sent feedback! Thank you so much!  
  
I don't know how I'm gonna play this, and I'm just about to write it, so bear with me, 'kay?  
Oh, and 'Plastic and Rubber Weekly' really exists! Scary, huh? **  
  
Part 10 - Guilty  
  
There was a moment's silence and then the court exploded.   
  
Shouts came up from the press seats and even the judge seemed in shock.   
  
His defence barrister was completely confused and the prosecution was smiling smugly.   
  
The people on the jury were exchanging puzzled looks and the dock officer was shouting abuse at Spike.   
  
Buffy was the only person in the court who was silent. She couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't think, couldn't _breathe_. She was just staring at him, not moving, her eyes still locked on his, trying to read from their stormy blue depths was the _hell_ was going on here.   
  
He was guilty, sure, and she knew it as well as he did. But there had been cases of serial killers being released before, without even a trace of the court case over their heads.   
  
Why had he risked everything? No, not risked, _given up_! His life, everything. But she knew why.   
  
She just couldn't face it. She would refuse to believe anything but her own opinions, and she'd be fine in her little cocoon. She wouldn't worry, wouldn't feel the overwhelming guilt that was tugging at her heart at that moment.   
  
She eventually broke her gaze away from his, staring at the red carpeting before turning and running out of the courtroom, Spike staring after her helplessly.   
  
********************************************************************************************************************   
  
**'THE RIPPER UNMASKED   
  
For months now, people worldwide have been morbidly obsessed with the horrific murders of a serial killer known only as 'The Ripper', and yesterday in a much-publicised court case, his true identity was revealed…'   
  
'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?   
  
If so, run for the hills.  
Yesterday this man, William 'Spike' Taylor, admitted in court that he was behind the works of 'The Ripper.' Our reporter Judith Adams was at the court getting the details for us…'   
  
'THE END OF AN ERA   
  
The end has come to the Ripper's reign of terror and murder over citizens of London as the latest suspect, William 'Spike' Taylor, pleaded guilty to all charges…'**   
  
  
Buffy threw down all the newspapers lying around her office in frustration. Every single one had Spike's confession on the front page, even the ones like 'Plastic and Rubber Weekly'. Did the people here have nothing better to talk about than the identity of the murderer who'd plagued London for God knows how long?   
  
Okay, so maybe it was kinda big news, but that didn't mean anything. It didn't mean that everywhere she turned, she would see his face airbrushed crudely so he appeared to behind bars.   
  
It didn't mean that everyone on the force had congratulated her for turning him in.   
  
It didn't mean that she had to be named, worldwide, as the one who'd finally brought him down.   
  
At least her friends hadn't heard about it yet. There was a G-Riley. Riley had been there, he'd been with her. And she'd been so engrossed in the trial and, well, everything Spike-related, she hadn't had the chance to tell him to sod off-oh God, she was even thinking like Spike now.   
  
It was crazy, she hadn't even known him a day, for crying out loud, and here she was, obsessing over him like he was some kind of movie star or something.   
  
No, Riley. Concentrate on Riley. But how could she when the man she loved was going to be sentenced in two hours?!   
  
She could beat the crap out of Riley later, maybe even get Spike to kill him for her when he was released…oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't even believe it herself, so she expected whoever else was listening in on her thoughts to buy it?   
  
She shook her head and picked up her bag, intent on being at the court to witness Spike's sentencing. Or maybe…   
  
She smiled at this new idea and headed for the door, the quintessence of a woman on a mission.   
  
As she rounded the corner to the court, her heartbeat quickening in anticipation…   
  
And then she bumped into something.   
  
Someone.   
  
Someone Riley shaped.   
  
'Shit.'   
  
**What is Buffy's brilliant plan? What the *bleep* is going on with Spike right now? And when will Riley get what's coming to him?   
  
Of course, you already know the answer's in your hands, or keyboards as the case may be.   
  
Gottit? Good. Now,   
  
Ready…   
  
Set…   
  
REVIEW!**


	12. 11: So Long, Soldier Boy

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: I can't think of another one. Read last chapter's, okay?   
Feedback: Is the Pope a Catholic? Is James Marsters the hottest guy on the planet? Of course I want feedback! **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: All the lovely people who've reviewed or sent feedback.  
  
AN - I'm in a REALLY BAD MOOD right now, and someone's gonna pay…   
  
Riley's oafishness is overdone to the point of excess. But then again, you can hardly really tell the difference.   
  
Oh, and a lot of Riley's ideas are strikingly similar to those in Superstar Revamped by Kantayra. It's a fic I absolutely adore, and I am not trying to plagiarise (I could never do it justice), I just felt some things identified with this.   
  
So, yeah, big love to Kantayra, and check out the fic! **  
  
Part 11 - So Long, Soldier Boy!  
  
'Hi, Buffy!' Riley smiled. 'Wanna grab a coffee?'   
  
'Not now,' she muttered, trying to manoeuvre past him.   
  
'What, have I caught you at a bad time?' His smile remained.   
  
'Let me think…' she began sarcastically.   
  
'Oh, good, so we can talk then?'   
  
'No! Look, I'm kinda in a hurry…'   
  
'But I thought you said it wasn't a bad time?'   
  
'I was being sarcastic!'   
  
'Oh, right.'   
  
Still he smiled, that annoying, stupid, farmboy smile that Buffy had once upon a time found charming in a vague way, but was now just pissing her off.   
  
'God, can't you do anything but smile?!' she snapped finally. He was getting on her last nerve. She had to go see Spike, and he was just standing there grinning like a demented hyena. Except not as cute.   
  
'What?'   
  
'I mean, you just stand there grinning like Spike isn't gonna be given a life sentence in an hour,' she ranted, tears beginning to collect in her eyes.   
  
'Oh, I see…' he mused **(AN - and a more vile image than that there never was)**. 'You're mad that that…thing took advantage of you. But don't worry,' he said conspiratorially, 'He'll get what he deserves.'   
  
Buffy shook away from the hand Riley had placed 'comfortingly' on her shoulder.   
  
'What are you-'   
  
'I mean, I can see why you're so upset about it. But criminals and people like that are normally the most charming people around, I can see how he managed to get you in that position, and I won't hold it against you.'   
  
'Hold it against me?'   
  
'Yeah, I mean, I know that some people who know victims of rape can-'   
  
'Rape? Who's talking about rape?'   
  
At this, some passers-by turned and stared, standing and trying to disguise their interest.   
  
'Buffy, he took advantage of you without your consent. That's rape,' he said in a condescending tone that just increased Buffy's urges to rip him limb from limb. She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to keep herself in control.   
  
'Riley, I work for the police. I think I know what rape is.' She spoke as calmly and coolly as was humanly possible.   
  
'Really, cuz you seemed kinda confused…'   
  
'Yeah, I'm confused. I'm confused that someone with as much _worldly knowledge_ as you can be so blind!'   
  
'Blind? Buffy, I do have a large amount of 'worldly knowledge' as you put it, and I think I know what I'm talking about.'   
  
'Oh, for God's sake, Riley, get down of your high horse for a second and read my lips. Firstly, look up the word 'sarcasm' in the dictionary. Secondly, you are blind! I don't believe you can't see that I'm in love with him!'   
  
'In love with who? That Spike guy?'   
  
'No, I'm in love with Bob Barker. Of course I mean Spike!'   
  
'Oh, I see what's happening here.'   
  
'Really? Enlighten me.'   
  
He continued on, blissfully unaware of the hostility now radiating unchecked from Buffy. 'It's a common thing for victims to feel some kind of sympathy or bond to the ones who defiled them…'   
  
'Sympathy? Sympathy? Does sympathy mean that I see his face wherever I go? Does sympathy mean that he's in all my dreams, all my thoughts? Does sympathy mean that he can melt my heart with one glance, that I can see his soul every time I look into his eyes? Does sympathy mean my heart hurts every time I see him, knowing I can't touch him? Yeah, let's just call it sympathy, shall we?'   
  
By now Buffy's eyes were practically blazing with anger. Where did Riley get off judging her? He'd been the one who'd been sleeping with every ho' he came across by night and being Buffy's loving boyfriend by day!   
  
'This is more serious than I thought. Look, I know someone who can help. I'll give you her number and soon you'll be my Buffy again…'   
  
At this, she snapped; reaching up a hand and slapping him round the face. Hard. 'Yours? I'm not yours! I never will be yours! You were too busy screwing Lisa and Jo and everyone else you met to even notice that I hated being with you! And now you're saying you won't look down on me for being in love with someone? So sue me for wanting to be with a decent guy for once!'   
  
Riley was holding his cheek, which was now an unhealthy shade of red. 'He's a serial killer!'   
  
'He didn't know!' she yelled through the tears beginning to mist up her eyes. 'He didn't realise it was wrong!'   
  
'Because taking someone's life could never be a bad thing, right?'   
  
'Now he gets the idea of sarcasm.' She rolled her eyes. 'Riley, I want you to listen. I am in love with Spike. The only feelings I have for you right now are loathing and disgust that I ever wanted to be with an over-muscled mama's boy with the biggest superiority complex on the universe and a head size to match!'   
  
'Buffy, we'll get through this, I promise.'   
  
'We? We? When will you understand that there is no 'we'? There is me, there is you, and they should be as far apart as humanly possible! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a serial killer to visit.'   
  
At that, she finally managed to push past his substantial bulk, practically running to the doors of the court, praying she wasn't too late.  
  
**I feel better. How 'bout you? The Riley-bashing was fun, no? You want more? You wanna know what's gonna happen now that Buffy's arrived in court? You wanna know when we're gonna get some Spuffy lovin'?   
  
You wanna review?   
  
Come on…you know you want to …**


	13. 12: Behind Bars

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, the world would be a very different place…  
Buffy would be my personal assassin, Riley would be D-E-D dead, Xander would have his own cable timeslot, Willow and Tara would have become the high priestesses of my coven, Dingoes Ate My Baby would be more famous than The Beatles, Anya would be my personal vengeance exactor (not much change there), Cordelia would accompany me on every shopping trip, Giles would have organised my rooms full of messy books, and as for Spike…  
Spike would be in my bedroom…sitting at the computer typing my history essay on World War 2. Homework sucks.  
But, since I don't own them, my essay remains undone while I bring you the latest instalment of William the Ripper…  
Feedback: Do I even need to ask? **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: Luv to all Spuffy shippers!**  
  
Part 12 - Behind Bars  
  
Buffy stood at the entrance to the courthouse, admiring the beautifully crafted brickwork…or alternatively petrified with fear.   
  
She'd decided, for some reason, to actually visit Spike before the sentencing. But now she was actually less than a minute away from him, she'd frozen.   
  
Okay, so she was going to go visit a notorious murderer in gaol, and she was going to say what exactly?   
  
She had a feeling that 'Hi, honey, how've ya been?' wasn't exactly gonna cut it, and neither were any of her other hundred versions of 'Hello'. Including the word itself.   
  
By now, she'd somehow unconsciously managed to make her way through the security detectors into the main foyer, and was now standing directly at the top of the stairway which led down to the holding cells.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the steps, and was faced by Liam, the warden guarding the cells.   
  
'I need to see Spike. William Taylor,' she said simply, her voice not betraying the emotions swirling inside her.   
  
Liam eyed her suspiciously. He was used to Buffy's frequent visits to the holding cells for statements for the police records, and despite his shock at her wanting to speak to the Ripper, he let her in, standing a few metres away from the cell to make sure no attempts were made on Buffy's life.   
  
It wasn't a high security prison; there were no barriers with little phones to speak into, just standard-issue barred cells with thin bunk beds, one level unoccupied in Spike's case, as a charge as serious as his wasn't considered 'safe', which was why Liam was standing to the side of the cell, keeping everything within view, gun ready to fire if the need should arise.   
  
When Buffy entered, Spike was lying on his back on the lower bunk, staring absently at the cracked wood that supported the upper layer. She knew he was aware of her presence, and waited for him to acknowledge her.   
  
When it became clear that Buffy wasn't going to say anything in the near future, Spike sighed and turned to sit on the edge of the bunk.   
  
'Buffy.' He nodded to her, uncertain of how to act around her, if he'd ever known in the first place.   
  
'Spike,' she replied, equally detached, coming and tentatively sitting down on the bunk on the opposite end to him, still facing forward so they were side by side.   
  
'So, are we gonna talk this out or wait until one of us dies of age?' he asked, chancing a glance over at her.   
  
'The latter's looking pretty good right now.' They both smiled weakly, too much hanging on their hearts to appreciate the small amount of humour. 'It's just…I don't know how to…'   
  
'Me either, pet,' he said simply, turning back to face the front of the cell, and silence hung over them once more.   
  
It wasn't a heavy silence to be cut, nor was it a comfortable silence. It was more like a thin mist that hung over them, nagging at them, irritating them as a small insect sting would, or an itch that couldn't be scratched.   
  
'I missed you,' Buffy blurted out eventually, wincing inwardly as soon as the words left her mouth.   
  
Spike swallowed loudly, his eyes showing his…fear? as the cocky words left his lips. 'Oh, you did, did you? Knew I was right when I said I was the best you'd ever have.'   
  
'Spike, you don't have to-'   
  
'What?'   
  
'You're hiding.'   
  
'What the hell are you on about?'   
  
'William,' she started in exasperation. 'I know how you're feeling, and you can't hide it with a coupla innuendos and a smirk. You can't hide from me.'   
  
His head hanging low, Spike acknowledged the truth in her words, but didn't comment. He was too overwhelmed with the same stupid emotions that had plagued him for the past however long it had been. The pain, the guilt, the love…   
  
Everything had been so much simpler before, as he'd thought a few million times since…then. Since THEM. Since her.   
  
'I missed you too,' he said finally. 'Buffy, there's so much stuff I've gotta talk to you about, and I need you to listen to me. I know that-'   
  
'Okay, visit's over,' came Liam's voice from the cell entrance.   
  
'What?!' asked Buffy, jumping to her feet, deciding to change he tactic at the dark look on the warden's face. 'Look, Liam, I just need one more minute, 'kay, honey?' She let the words slip off her tongue like honey itself, smooth and sweet, but Liam wasn't buying it.   
  
Taking hold of her arm almost forcefully, Liam attempted to lead her up back to the main foyer of the courthouse, and, although powerless against a fully armed bodybuilder, Buffy managed to twist her body round to call back to Spike.   
  
'I love you!'   
  
No reply. Spike was sitting back on the bunk again, and as soon as she'd turned her hopeful eyes on him, he'd looked down to the floor.   
  
The words hung in the air as the silence had those few minutes before, until suddenly there came a sound from behind. Buffy and Liam spun round to see Spike wrench the heavy-duty padlock off the cell door and begin to run towards them.   
  
Letting go of Buffy's arm, Liam instantly grabbed his gun and shot twice.   
  
Everything from then on seemed to happen in slow motion. The two lovers ran to each other in desperation, almost racing the bullets flying towards Spike's body. They had been hazard shots, not intending to endanger the man's life, but as Buffy threw herself into his arms, she also threw herself into the line of fire. As in 'The Matrix', the bullet flew unnaturally slowly, every ripple of air visible as it made its inevitable journey.   
  
Buffy didn't cry out as the shot hit, merely opened her mouth and gasped before slumping down to the ground, and Spike began to kneel down beside her as the third and final shot flew towards him, embedding itself in his shoulder, just above the heart. He managed to bark to Liam, 'Don't just stand there, you wanker, call an ambulance!' before he fell to the ground, cradling her body to his, refusing to admit what he knew was true. He stroked her hair gently, placing feather-light kisses across the golden locks, whispering that it would be okay, everything would be okay.   
  
So tired…He'd just allow himself to rest his eyes for a while before the ambulance came for her, he'd wake up there with her and stay beside her until she awoke, and…the feeling of her rapidly cooling body against his was the last thing Spike knew as he succumbed to the darkness flirting at the edges of his vision, finally allowing it to engulf him.   
  
**Epilogue to come  
  
AN - I suck at writing scenes like that…everything always seems to be wrong…oh well.   
  
Ok, there is an epilogue…and since I'm a lovely person, I've already posted it, so you can go read the 'Spuffiness'…you'll know what I mean.**


	14. Epilogue: Into Nothingness

****

William the Ripper  
by S_Star  
  
Disclaimer: OK, so last week I went to see this guy I know, right, called Joss Whedon. I hired a limo (super stretch, chilled bar, satellite TV, the works), bought flowers (lush red roses and white lilies (imported, they don't grow in these conditions), treated him to a dinner at what is certified the world's (yes, WORLD'S) most expensive restaurant (found it through Google!), and let him order anything he wanted, heck, I even paid a coupla my *cough* well-endowed friends to *cough* dance for him, and y'know what he said?  
'I appreciate it and everything, but you can't have Spike.'  
'Fine, how about someone less important to your show. Can I have Buffy?'  
'No! All the characters are mine!' Then he paused. 'OK, I guess you deserve something for your efforts (and bankruptcy, I added)…you can have Riley.'  
'Ew! No!'  
So he turned to leave, a girl on each arm, and finally looked back. 'Oh, and Emi? You've got a pretty bad cough there. You might wanna do something about it.'  
So I sat down, glaring at his back as he walked out, thinking that nothing could make this night any worse. Then I saw the bill.  
The moral of that is, Joss Whedon is a selfish git. But he's also rich (although he didn't pay a penny for that whole experience), and owns Spike, so I guess we can make allowances. But I'll get him next time…I'm already forming a plan...  
Feedback: I'm broke and outta chocolate. Feedback is the only thing that makes me feel truly alive…except shagging Spike, but that's not really an option. He's become so into that Buffy chick that he doesn't have time for one of his oldest and dearest *cough* friends anymore… **s_star@slayme.com****  
Dedication: It's ending, and I feel a sappy moment coming on…everyone who's reviewed on Central, I love you, as I do everyone who's sent me feedback via e-mail, everyone who's visited my site, Deadly Desire (and let me take this opportunity to say ), everyone who's written B/S fanfiction, ever: you guys keep me going, and to JM for being so damn fine and inspiring me to write this LOVELY story.  
  
AN - OK, that alone is nearly half a page of A4 (print margins 1cm all the way round), so I'll be brief.   
  
It's an epilogue. It comes after the last chapter. If you haven't read the last chapter, you'll have no idea what the hell is going on. And if you're just checking out the last part to make sure it's a Spuffy ending before you actually bother to read it (come on, we all do it…unless it's just me, in which case, y'know, forget I said anything)…it is totally and completely B/S. But at the same time, it's kinda not.   
  
You'll know what I mean…**   
  
Epilogue - Into Nothingness  
  
Everything was white. No, it wasn't white. It didn't have a colour. There was just nothing. There was no body, no mind, no spirit, just a being. It wasn't a soul, it was…the essence of a person. What made them them in the past world, condensed into one nameless, shapeless form. There was no consciousness, no feeling, no emotion, no knowledge. No senses, no way of knowing what was around. You didn't need to know. And it wasn't that it was just…there, and you somehow knew it…because there was nothing. It was like a little piece of nothing, surrounded by nothingness. No different from any vacuum. To the naked eye, even to a trained eye with the greatest of magnification, no significance could be made between the space the…entity filled and the very atom next to it. There could be an infinite number of other beings, or there could be an infinite space…there was no way to distinguish them.   
  
But somehow, it was still itself. As if what was imprinted on it, contained within it, was still a whole person, body, mind, blood.   
  
There were many other entities like it, floating, suspended in a sea of emptiness, waiting to be found, waiting to be filled.   
  
Some were standing still, just waiting, others seemed to float around, searching for something they could not name, without conscious knowledge or thought of what they were doing.   
  
The only thing that was experienced within the beings was emptiness, a loneliness which couldn't be satisfied until the unnamed thing they were yearning for could be with them, an aching need deep inside that was so painful no words could be given.   
  
Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over the being that had once been Buffy Summers, and for a second the emptiness within faded. There was a moment in which there was an even stranger emptiness, wondering where the original emptiness should be, but then there was…peace. If the she could, Buffy would've turned and smiled one last smile to her lover, before finally dying again, knowing that both she and her soulmate were content, together, and able, at last, to rest. 

****

*end*

I know it was short, but what do you expect from an epilogue?   
  
Feedback on the finished product more than welcome! 


End file.
